


This War Is Over

by uistic



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Betrayal, M/M, One-Sided Attraction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2016-08-11
Packaged: 2018-08-08 04:38:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7743667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uistic/pseuds/uistic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean’s blackout drunk. Seth’s faking it. He helps Dean back to their room, puts him to bed, leaves a bottle of water and two Aspirins at the table, leaves a piece of his heart and a part of his soul in that bed. Roman is awake, watching, but says nothing. Seth can’t help but wonder how that would change if he knew.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This War Is Over

In the end, it’s such a little thing that tips the scales. Seth recalls it like a snapshot. Dean, on his back on the bed, boots caked with dirt, arms under his head, chewing gum and singing a made up off-key song about some girl he used to fuck. His gym bag is open, wet towel and sweaty ring gear strewn over the floor. Roman walks through the door, in all his sanctimonious greek god glory, stumbles over Dean’s crap, and loses it.

There’s a fight. Words first, sharp and brittle, and after months of shared rides and shared rooms and shared times in the ring, wrestling and drinking and fighting, inflated egos in cramped spaces, they know exactly how to angle their accusations for maximum damage, maximum hurt, and at the first crack of flesh against flesh, Seth feels the decision settle within him, slotting into place in the back of his mind with the simplicity of a perfect fit.

He’s done.

He doesn’t call Hunter that day, or even in the couple of days that follow. He takes his time with it, feeling the weight of his decision, allowing it to shape him, to throw everything he has and everything he feels in sharp relief. 

He kisses Dean one night in a filthy men’s room, broken glass and gravel crunching under his feet against the sticky floor. Above them, the light bulb flickers, just barely on this side of giving out, and Dean’s lips are soft, amber hair falling into his eyes, his hands clutching Seth’s shoulders, half pushing, half pulling.

Dean’s blackout drunk. Seth’s faking it. He helps Dean back to their room, puts him to bed, leaves a bottle of water and two Aspirins at the table, leaves a piece of his heart and a part of his soul in that bed. Roman is awake, watching, but says nothing. Seth can’t help but wonder how that would change if he knew.

Roman and Dean keep fighting, and Seth keeps talking, talking, calming them down, reminding them of what they are, what they do, why they’re here. He speaks the words so often that they lose all meaning, just like he’s losing them, piece by piece in shards and splinters.

They defeat Kane and The New Age Outlaws. They defeat Evolution. 

He calls Hunter, or maybe Hunter calls him. They’ve danced around it for a long, long time, and there’s no hesitation in his voice as he says it, _it’s me, I’m in, I’ll do it_. Hunter asks nothing. Seth suspects he already knew.

There is cutting your losses, and there is staking your claims, and with that chair in his hands, he’s finally free to do both. 

It feels damn good.


End file.
